Risen
by Theoretical-Optimist
Summary: Draco accepts a plea deal for his role in the Second Wizarding War and is sentenced to serve 500 hours in an orphanage for children whose parents were killed during Voldemort's regime. Written for Round 8 of The Houses Competition (year two)


House: Gryffindor

Position: HoH

Category: Theme (Redemption)

Prompt: Baked Goods

Word Count (excluding header and AN): 2238

Beta: Tigger

AN: The song lyrics at the beginning are a play on The Rolling Stones.

* * *

 _You can't always get what you want_

 _But if you try sometime you find_

 _You get what you knead_

"Docket number: 872209. Has the Wizengamot reached a decision?" asked the Chief Mugwump.

"We have."

"Will the defendant, Draco Lucius Malfoy, please rise."

Draco quickly stood. He forced himself to remain steady, although inside he was trembling with trepidation. We watched the parchment that would seal his fate float into the hands of the Chief Mugwump.

"Mr. Malfoy," the elderly wizard said, "you have been found guilty on all counts."

Draco swallowed hard and barely kept his knees from buckling.

"However," the man continued, "in light of testimony given on your behalf by Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. Hermione Granger, it is the decision of this body that you shall be sentenced to five years of probation with 500 hours of mandatory community service in lieu of two years in Azkaban prison."

Draco let out a shaky breath, relieved that he'd escape serving time in wizarding prison.

"A Malfoy would never stoop so low as to do community service," called a unwelcome voice from the back of the courtroom. "He'll pay a fine and that'll be the end of this nonsense."

Draco turned to glare at his father. The elder Malfoy's trial was set for tomorrow. Although Lucius had loudly proclaimed that he'd be let off with no more than a slap on the wrist like he had following Voldemort's first defeat, Draco was certain that Lucius would not be so lucky.

"Silence!" ordered the Chief Mugwump. "The choice is yours, Mr. Malfoy. You can either serve two years in Azkaban or serve the community that you nearly destroyed. If you receive a favorable report from your supervisor, you have the opportunity to walk away a free man when your probation ends."

Draco knew what would await him in Azkaban. There'd be nothing but pain, depression, and rage. He'd be lucky if he made it out alive.

"I will serve the community," Draco said. He could feel the eyes of the courtroom judging him beyond his sentence. He knew that they all expected him to fail and wind up locked in Azkaban.

He couldn't prove them right.

* * *

Draco awoke two hours before the sun was set to rise. He was determined to show up to his community service on time, every day. He figured that it would be a mark in his favor with his supervisor. He'd have a glowing report when his 500 hours were complete and retire to the manor. He'd keep his head down and finish out his probation in solitude.

It was a great plan, he figured. But waking up before dawn to floo to the war orphans' home was just painful.

Stumbling out of the green fire, he jumped back with a start when he spotted his Aunt Bellatrix standing in front of him. He reached for his wand to defend himself, briefly forgetting that he'd surrendered his wand for the duration of his probation.

"I get that a lot," Bellatrix said in a somewhat friendly manor.

Draco's mind tried process her happy disposition while backing towards the floo.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Draco. I'm Andromeda."

His pulse slowed to a more reasonable pace when he realized that his psychotic aunt had not returned from the dead.

"Andromeda?" he asked. "Andromeda Black?"

She snorted. "Our family saw to it that I haven't been a Black for a long time."

He shook his head to clear his mind. "Ah, yes."

"Well, I'm glad you're finally here. We've got lots of baking to do before breakfast."

She handed him a frilly apron, which he looked at with disdain. "Do you want me to order the house elves around to make sure everything gets done? What are their names so I can call them?" When she didn't immediately reply he said, "Never mind. Elves," he commanded, "in the kitchen. Now!"

"There are no elves here, Draco. We do all the cooking ourselves."

"No elves?" he sneered. "Too poor to afford any?"

"It might have escaped your notice that not everyone in the Wizarding World is as well off as the Malfoy family." Andromeda scowled at him. "And I wouldn't use house elves for this job anyway. Baking bread is one of the things that ought to be done by hand every time."

Draco suppressed his own scowl. "When will my supervisor arrive?"

"Merlin, boy. They told me you were intelligent."

"You? You'll be supervising my community service? How'd you get roped into that?" he asked as he tied the ridiculous frilly apron around his waist. He'd already buggered up the first impression and figured it wouldn't do to delay more.

"I volunteered for it."

"Why?" he asked, stunned.

"I wanted to meet my nephew and see if there was anything redeemable about you."

That shocked him. He was so certain that everyone was waiting for him to fail. To botch his community service so badly that they'd have to opportunity to re-sentence him to Azkaban and throw away the key.

He hid his shock behind a layer of contempt. "I just want to get these 500 hours over with."

"Well, better get started then." She gestured to a massive lump of dough sitting on the counter. "You'll knead this dough and form it into thirty loaves of bread."

"Thirty?! How much can a couple of orphans eat?"

She sighed. "There's over one hundred children living in this home, Draco."

He gulped. "One hundred children?"

She nodded as she sprinkled flour across the countertop. "One hundred children whose parents committed no crime other than having dirty blood." She pushed him up to the counter. "I'll be back in three hours. I expect all these loaves to be perfect." She wiped her floured hands on her own apron and left his alone in the kitchen.

Draco pulled a section of dough loose from the mound and began to knead. One, two, three, four, he counted. His mind was reeling with the thought of the parentless children asleep in this very building. Fifty seven, fifty eight. He roughly rolled his palms and knuckles into the dough. Eighty, eighty one. He punched the dough down; wishing that he could push his own guilt down as easily. Ninety eight, ninety nine, one hundred.

One for every child who he'd played a part in making an orphan.

He methodically formed the dough into a loaf and grabbed another portion of dough. He repeated the process until thirty loaves of unbaked bread lined the counters.

"Good, you're finished," Andromeda said as she walked back into the room. With her wand, she levitated the raw loaves into a giant stone hearth. Turning, she addressed Draco. "I expect you back here at the same time tomorrow."

"That's it?" he asked. "I can do more today and get these hours done quicker." The less time he spent in this orphanage, the better for everyone.

"You'll come back tomorrow and knead the bread. You'll keep doing that until I say differently. Goodbye, Draco," she said, dismissing him.

He ripped off his apron, rolled it into a ball and smacked it onto the counter. "Fine," he sneered. He then stormed to the floo and in an instant was back in the manor.

He raced to his study, fuming. ' _How dare she dismiss me like that_?' he thought. ' _I could have done more for the orphans._ ' His train of thought derailed for a moment and he shook his head to clear it. _'No, I could have done more work to earn more hours. That's what matters in this situation. I need those hours so I can be done with all of this and move on with my life. I'm the one who matter most.'_

Draco stared into the fire of his study for hours repeating that mantra to himself. So why couldn't he make himself believe it?

* * *

"You're late," Andromeda said as he stepped out of the floo the next morning.

He checked his watch; he was barely a minute late. "I'm sorry. I'll stay later today." He let out a large yawn. "I'm sorry; I didn't sleep well last night."

She arched her eyebrow in a manner that reminded Draco of his mother. "Why was that?"

"Just a lot on my mind," he said, hoping that she'd drop the topic. He didn't want to discuss his thoughts with anyone else when he didn't understand them himself. He picked up the ruddy apron and sprinkled flour on the counter next to the giant dough ball.

"Well, you'll have lots of time to think while you're working. Thirty loaves," she ordered as she left him alone in the kitchen.

He portioned off a section of dough and began kneading. One, two, three, four. One hundred times for each loaf. One hundred children who were forced into this situation because people like him believed that their parents were lesser.

* * *

Draco continued his community service. Every morning, he'd arrive at the orphanage two hours before sunrise, knead thirty loaves of dough one hundred times each, and return to Malfoy Manor to stare into the fire while thoughts churned in his head.

He'd reached the 200 hour mark of his community service and he knew that Andromeda was reporting that his work was sufficiently adequate. 300 more and he'd never have to return to the war orphanage. He didn't know why that thought made him uneasy, but it kept him up every night.

He was working on his last loaf of the morning when a small boy with shockingly turquoise hair toddled into the kitchen.

"Teddy?" he could hear Andromeda's voice calling from down the hall.

"I think Teddy might be in here with me," Draco called back. He had no idea if the strange haired boy's name was Teddy, but he figured Andromeda would want to fetch the stray child, whoever he was.

Andromeda entered the room and sighed. "You shouldn't run away from Nana, Teddy."

Draco blinked. "Nana?"

She nodded. "He's my grandson; my daughter's son. I bring him with me some days so he can play with the other children. He'd be living here himself if I weren't around."

"Surely not," Draco said.

"His mother and father were killed in the final battle. I'm not sure if you ever met Nymphadora when she was patrolling at Hogwarts during your sixth year, but I'm certain you knew her husband, Remus Lupin. He was your professor."

"The werewolf?"

"Yes, he was a werewolf. But that wasn't all he was."

"No," Draco said. "I'm sorry that I played a role in getting him sacked. He was probably the best Defense professor that we had."

Andromeda looked at him for a moment. He stood tall, but inside he wanted to squirm under her gaze.

"Would you like some tea, Draco?"

"What?"

"Tea? You're free to go home if you'd like, but you can have tea with Teddy and I if you want."

He nodded. "Please. Just let me finish up this last loaf." He returned to his kneading.

A minute later, she interrupted him. "What did you say?" she asked.

"I didn't say anything," he said.

"Funny. It sounded like you were counting under your breath."

He blushed. "Oh. I was. I make sure that I knead the dough one hundred times before I form it into loaves."

"Why so many?"

"Once for every child that my stupid mistakes have made parentless," he admitted as he finished forming the loaf.

"Sit down, Draco."

He removed his apron and obeyed the order.

"Tell me why you're here, Draco."

"I was given a choice between two years in Azkaban or—"

She cut him off. "Why you're really here. You weren't the only person who fought for your side that was offered some form of plea deal. But you're the only one who accepted it."

"I wanted to prove everyone wrong."

"In what way?" she asked, gently.

"I could see it in their eyes in that courtroom. Everyone expected me to continue on being the same selfish boy that I've always been. They gave me this chance because they were so sure that I was going to fail. I wanted them to be wrong about me."

"So you're doing this for them?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"That's the way it started out. But now…" he paused for a moment. "Now I want to do this for the children. They deserve more than the loaves of bread that I make every morning. I can do more. I want to do more."

Teddy gave him a toothless grin and his turquoise hair faded to platinum blonde to match Draco's.

Andromeda smiled at first her grandson, and then her nephew. "It seems that Teddy believes you. I'd love to help you do more, Draco. This afternoon, I'll show you how to bake cakes for the children."

"More baking?" he asked, barely suppressing a groan.

"You can learn a lot from baking, Draco," she said. "It takes a lot of careful patience to get it right. Sometimes we make a mistake and things don't work out the way we want them to. But if someone is willing to try again, they can start to make things right."

Draco understood the underlying message. Just like leavened bread, a person can work themselves over and rise up to become better than they were before.

"Let's get to work," he said.


End file.
